


S is for Satinalia

by OtakuElf



Series: YADAA (Yet Another Dragon Age Alphabet) [19]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Gen, Gift Giving, Lowtown, Satinalia, Sundermount
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-11
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-05-06 02:53:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5400203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OtakuElf/pseuds/OtakuElf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Holiday!  But Hawke is poor, and saving money for the Deep Roads Expedition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	S is for Satinalia

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Lunamoth116 for beta-ing.

Hawke wandered through the Lowtown market looking. Not searching for anything in particular, you understand. She was just looking. They had some money. Not a large amount, but enough of a surplus that she could afford a present for Mother and for Carver. Satinalia was coming, and Mother had pushed her out of the house. Pushed her, Marion, out of the house, but keeping Carver.

“Oh, Marion,” Leandra had said, “you know that you always manage to blow things up on Satinalia. Carver and I will just do what we can to clean the house without you.”

Hawke had looked over her mother’s shoulder to Carver, tall and broad-shouldered. He looked uncertain as to whether he should be smug at Marion’s expulsion, or annoyed that he was going to spend the day getting the house ready for the holiday. “We don’t need you!” he growled, making a face and some odd hand movement behind their mother’s head. “I’m _sure_ you have something to do.”

Odd. Funny. Watching Carver trying to tell her to buy their mother a gift without Leandra knowing. “Right,” she said with mock annoyance, “I can see where I’m not wanted. Go ahead, clean your brains out.”

She hadn’t meant it. They knew that, Leandra and Carver. The problem was that Marion had no idea what to get her mother. They were not really able to change much about Uncle Gamlen’s home. It was dusty. There was not much in the way of furniture. Hawke slept with her mother on the bottom bunk in the side room, while Carver slept up above.

A bed would be nice. One that was not slapped together from pieces of scrap wood. Even Gamlen didn’t have a real one. Before they had arrived, he seemed to mostly sleep wherever he ended up after a night out drinking. Now he had one of the three rooms to himself. The Hawkes were in the other, and then there was the main room. It was cold, echoing, and dusty. Hawke hated the dust.

A new broom? Nothing says love like buying your mother cleaning implements. Hawke stopped by to chat with Elegant. “What do you have other than potions, Lady Elegant?”

Hawke was not a large woman, but she did feel clumsy and big around Lady Elegant. “Are you looking for cosmetics, Hawke?” That sounded astonished. As though Hawke never took care to look good!

“I might be.” She raised an eyebrow. “What do you have?”

As Elegant opened up baskets and produced jars and tiny bottles, Hawke was dismayed at the number of ways that a woman could use artifice to cover flaws. Frightening, the suggestions that Elegant was making for tweaking eyebrows - Maker, didn’t one just grow them and let them alone? - or lightening tanned skin. There was a series of small glass bottles off to the side. “What is that?” she asked.

“Lavender oil,” was the reply. “To help you sleep. And peppermint oil to wake you up.”

“Oh. How much?” If Hawke could not get a bed, the least she could do was to make it easier for Mother to sleep. It occurred to her that there were others she knew who had troubles with dreams. Anders. Fenris. Hawke didn’t think that Isabela slept much - but that wasn’t because she avoided the bed.

In the end, the mage purchased four small bottles of lavender oil. One each for her mother, Anders, Fenris, and herself. Tucked into her sleeve, they would be a nice surprise, she was sure. Now, what should she get for Carver?

The armorer was located closer to the alienage, and so it was not much of a shock that Hawke ran into Merrill on her way there. “Hawke!” Merrill always sounded so surprised when she came across Hawke on her wanderings about town.

“Hello, Merrill. On your way to buy some armor?” Hawke teased.

“Armor? Oh, no, Hawke. I can’t use metal armor,” Merrill’s flutelike voice responded.

Hawke laughed. “I’m looking for something for Carver to celebrate Satinalia. I was thinking - a new sword?”

“Oh!” Merrill exclaimed in worry. “Have I forgotten an important holiday, Hawke? Is this a Carver celebration?”

“No, Merrill. We just give small things to people we love on Satinalia. Things to show we remember them. Nothing big.” Hawke shrugged.

“Ah.” Merrill was watching Hawke with interest.

Hawke sighed, then smiled. “I was thinking it would be nice to get a new bed for Mother. But we don’t have space for one. So I bought some lavender oil from Lady Elegant to help her sleep.”

Merrill nodded. “What about a new mattress? What is yours stuffed with? Mine has grass that I gathered from Sundermount. It smells very nice. And doesn’t attract rats as much as some of the other stuffings.”

“Right now we’ve just got some very flat pads sitting on scrap wood,” Hawke said thoughtfully.

“I have some baskets. We can go out this afternoon and collect dried grass from the meadows,” offered Merrill. “So long as the weather holds.”

Hawke and Merrill stopped by the alienage to collect the baskets, leaving Kirkwall through the land gate with the traffic to the local farms just outside of the city. Hiking up the side of Sundermount, they traveled toward Merrill’s meadow. The sun was just getting to the top of the sky when they reached the path Merrill had made over the last few months. Tracks led up from the stream along the path, and Hawke tried to read them. She was not Fenris, though, and had little to no idea beyond that they looked like soft boots with not much tread. Worn. Fenris had told her many times that he was no tracker. But he would then go on to describe accurately what they would find.

What they found today was Anders digging about among the flowers in the grass. “Hello, Anders!” Merrill called out.

The startled mage looked up at them, a muddy root hanging from his fingers. “Hawke! Merrill! What are you doing out here?”

“Ooh, we are gathering hay, Anders. Why are you here alone? It’s dangerous, you know,” Merrill piped.

“I’m short on ingredients for lowering fever. I thought it would be a nice day to gather them.” He slapped the dirt off of his hands onto his breeches. “I can help you gather your hay, though. If you like.”

Hawke always found herself responding to Anders with the most stupid smile. He gave her such a wonderful grin in return. “That would be lovely. But don’t you have ingredients to gather?”

That got a laugh. “I’ve been here all morning. I’ve more than enough for now. And I find I’d really rather help you lovely ladies. Why do you need hay?”

Hawke opened her mouth, but Merrill spoke up: “For mattresses. For Hawke’s family.”

“Sounds like a good idea.” Anders’s smile was solely for Hawke.

Raking the dried meadow grass, they collected basket after basket. As the sun started its downward path behind the mountain, the air began to chill. Hawke stretched, pressing against her spine. “I think I’m a little too stiff from all that bending.” 

Anders leaned toward her, running a hand slowly across her back. The blue of healing energies surrounded her, soothing her muscles, bringing the vertebrae back into alignment. 

Hawke leaned into his touch. “That feels incredible. Thank you!”

Merrill was hopping about the meadow picking flowers, weaving them into a wreath. 

“For Satinalia?” Anders murmured into her ear.

Hawke nodded, a shy smile. “I still need something for Merrill, for Isabela, for Varric, for Aveline, and for Sebastian.”

“For,” Anders was smiling at her, considering. “Well, what did you have in mind for them? Any ideas?”

With a sigh and a shrug of the shoulders, Marion said, “I was winging it. Do you have any suggestions?”

“Brandy? Well, except for Sebastian,” Anders grinned.

“Brandy?” Hawke echoed him.

Anders laughed, leaned close and whispered, “Athenril has a new shipment in. Just came in this morning. I saw them on my way out of the city.”

Clapping her hands, Hawke shouted, “Perfect!”

...

The dinner with her mother, brother, and uncle was a feast. Mother had outdone herself. The new mattresses - Hawke had enough dried grass to fill all of their mattresses, even Gamlen’s - were a success. Leandra had accepted the vial of lavender oil with a kiss and a quiet murmur of thanks. After the meal, and a family visit to the Chantry for services, Hawke dragged Carver to the Hanged Man. Isabela grabbed her bottle of Antivan brandy and delivered a buss to Hawke’s lips, then one to Carver’s blushing cheek. Varric cracked his open, and offered it to the group for a toast. Aveline, Donnic, and Sebastian got bottles as well, which they thanked Hawke for graciously. 

Fenris looked at the small vial in his, Anders’s, and Merrill’s hands and lifted an eyebrow in question to Hawke. “It’s lavender oil,” Hawke explained, having given up her own for Merrill. “A drop of oil on your pillow will help you to relax. To sleep.”

“I thank you.” Fenris examined the small bit of glass holding the oil as he would a piece of treasure. “I am unaccustomed to receiving gifts.”

“Oh! Thank you, Hawke!” Merrill squealed as she gifted her friend with the wreath of woven flowers she had gathered in the meadow.

The thank you from Anders took place after he walked her home. A quiet kiss, and an embrace on Uncle Gamlen’s doorstep. “Thank you, Marion.” It was all that she would have asked for.


End file.
